


DEER TEETH

by Fuil_agus_deora



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alana Bloom is just trying her best, Cannibalism, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, Jack Crawford Being Jack Crawford, Mentions of Abigail's Mother, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:07:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28462137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fuil_agus_deora/pseuds/Fuil_agus_deora
Summary: Abigail Hobbs reflects on her relationships, and thinks about what could've been.
Relationships: Abigail Hobbs & Freddie Lounds, Abigail Hobbs & Garrett Jacob Hobbs, Alana Bloom & Abigail Hobbs, Will Graham & Abigail Hobbs & Hannibal Lecter
Kudos: 3





	DEER TEETH

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh, I hate this. But I wanted to finish it up because I’ve got other ideas I want to do. Hope you guys enjoy anyway!

Abigail didn't know where she began and her father ended. 

They seemed too alike, to the point where her mother would comment that she really was her father's daughter. She had always brushed it off, but the girl hated it now. It seemed she could never peel herself off that kitchen floor, with a large hand around her slashed throat as she choked on her own blood and faded in and out of consciousness.

Was this what a shot doe felt? Flailing legs and all as its life trickled, hunters nearing the corpse to pull it apart. 

_What a grotesque thought_ , Abigail knew. She knew she would've been chastised if she said that out loud. But she wasn't wrong. Garrett Jacob Hobbs had shown her how to use every last piece of an animal, just like he did with his victims. She was hyper-aware of his activity. His daughter was the lure, after all. 

More accurately, she was the thorns that the shrike used to impale and feast upon. 

Except she didn’t know about the meat.

She wished she was normal, but she never was, was she?

Once Abigail woke up from her coma, her neck bandaged, the nurses seemed to deflect. Alana Bloom deflected. 

Alana Bloom was an interesting character to Abigail, because she did care about her wellbeing. But Abigail was not fragile by any means, and it was clear the psychiatrist regarded her as a child, as a victim. The older woman was afraid to speak outright, and it rather frustrated the girl. She couldn't help but feel apprehensive, especially when it was clear that her name and her late father's would be conjoined for as long as publishing existed. 

Freddie Lounds pushed this narrative. Of course, she wasn't completely straightforward about it, but Abigail admired her brashness as opposed to Dr. Bloom's cautiousness in pressuring her to open up.

The redheaded author of the notorious Crime Tattle was writing a book, on the Minnesota Shrike she insisted. She clearly wanted Abigail's story, and that was when Will Graham and another man burst into her hospital room.

She recognized them, of course. Agent Graham had shot Garrett down ten times as she was on the tile, and his attention had then turned to her as he frantically tried to keep her from bleeding out. 

The man beside him was one Doctor Hannibal Lecter, who had also been present at the scene.

Unlike Will, who was withdrawn but his insecurities were easy to read, she couldn’t read Hannibal at all.

Abigail knew that her father was a killer, but she would've much rather have a father than no one at all. His victims were in her dreams, invading and asking why she did nothing at all. And now she was stuck in this limbo of people around her trying to step on eggshells without them breaking more.

Jack Crawford did no such thing. 

She didn't hate the man - he was just doing his job - but she hated being his primary suspect, especially when Marissa was found impaled on antlers in her father's hunting cabin. Will had concluded that it was the Copycat, but Jack wasn't so keen to that suggestion. 

Everything felt like a blur to Abigail until she felt herself twisting the knife into Nick Boyle's stomach. She was shaking, her bloodied hands were shaking, her mind was shaking as she seeked something, anything out. 

Before she knew it, Hannibal Lecter was by her side with Alana unconscious on the floor in the hallway, looking down at the body of the man she had stabbed. 

"This was murder, Abigail." the psychiatrist told her, voice ever so unwavering and devoid of emotion. She still could not read him.

But she did what he said anyway.

It ate at her, wasted at her as she waited for the inevitable discovery. But she knew she was trying to defend herself, she knew she could try to move on.

Hannibal Lecter was a serial killer, and he was the man who called her father that morning. Abigail had figured it out relatively quickly, because what psychiatrist would help her hide a body? Alana Bloom wouldn't, but the man who had saved her life would. 

Maybe she was wrong, maybe he just wanted to keep her out of prison. Give her a new chance at life, to live.

No, he had practically confessed, in the most vague way possible; so she kept his secret and he kept hers.

Will Graham did not know. For an FBI profiler, he seemed to be kept in the dark, wool over his eyes. It was clear to Abigail that he was not well right now, but she had started to warm up to him. He cared for her, as a father-figure in a way. The same could be applied to Hannibal, ever stoic.

Abigail always lived in a haze of uncertainty, or at least, that’s what she projected and presented to others.

Her father knew. Hannibal knew; and now Will. Even as her and the man, his body trying to fight something off, stood in the cabin she once called a second home; Abigail knew she had to get out. He wasn’t even in his right state of mind, especially when the fisherman asked–no, demanded–if she was the hunter or the lure. She tentatively replied, quiet and gentle.

_“The lure.”_

Before she knew it, Abigail was on a car back to Minnesota, back to her house. She had left Will alone. Well, it wasn’t really her house anymore, but she had called Doctor Lecter and agreed to meet there.

He seemed different, well as different and yet similar one can be. He said three very simple words, and Abigail got the message that something wasn’t quite right.

It all came barreling toward her now, like a stag charging. The girl knew he was a killer, but the real probability that she wouldn’t be walking out here intact or alive crossed her mind. He had killed many more than her father, and as Hannibal’s hand tucked her hair behind her ear, she knew what he wanted. 

Staying dead was harder than said. Abigail hated being in the same place for a long time, especially with only one ear. She was somewhere, near the cliffs. And she was only given little snippets of what was going on with Will. Besides that, she was kept in the dark with no match. She felt like a lamb, stumbling as it tried to walk for the first time.

And then, time had passed apparently, because she was in Baltimore. Chaos was happening downstairs, she could hear it, but she stayed hidden like Hannibal wanted her to.

It wasn’t long until Alana Bloom rushed into the room. The woman didn’t realize she was there at first, having fired a couple shots. To say that she was surprised, was really an understatement, but Abigail was muttering “I’m so sorry” with choked words. Before Alana could react, she was shoved out the window, glass and rain almost merging like one as her body hit the pavement.

Will Graham was the hardest to reveal herself to. He seemed in disbelief, but his mind was only on one thing. 

“Where is he?” He asked, soaked from the rain and the onslaught torrent of emotion.

Abigail didn’t reply, but the man got the message, turning around slowly to face his blood-covered friend. 

“You were supposed to leave.”

“We couldn’t leave without you.” 

A brief, fleeting tender caress of the cheek occurred as Abigail watch the two men maintain eye contact, starting to calm down. It was a simple touch, and yet it expressed every single word that could not be said. 

A glint, and then Hannibal suddenly grabbed the back of Will’s head, plunging the knife into his stomach and dragging it across. 

The girl reacted with a loud gasp, staying where she was. She shouldn’t move, even as she watched the two talk. She couldn’t even process what they were saying, stepping toward when she heard her name on her surrogate father’s lips.

It wasn’t until she felt the blade biting into her throat, Abigail knew she made a grave mistake. She was on the kitchen floor again.


End file.
